


Pursuit of the Jackalope (or, Fantastic Friends and Where to Find Them)

by stereolightning (phalaenopsis)



Series: Teddy Lupin Stories [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Gen, Pop Culture, Teddy Lupin has incredibly eclectic taste in music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-27 05:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalaenopsis/pseuds/stereolightning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teddy Lupin is sixteen and his hopeless crush on Victoire has sent him into an epic sulk. As a distraction from his romantic angst, Luna invites him to tag along on an international expedition to catalog the mysterious and magical jackalope. Together they cross the sea, travel through the Arizona desert, and encounter new people and legendary creatures, and along the way, Teddy deals with his past - the parents he lost, and the things he would have liked to know about them -  with help from an unexpected direction. He also discovers that perhaps there are girls out there who are much scarier than Victoire, but that even they are not so very difficult to talk to...</p><p>A Teddy-centric fic, with a romantic b-plot about the courtship of Luna and Rolf, and lots of Remus/Tonks allusions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Embarking

Summer rain drummed on the roof of the Leaky Cauldron. The door swung wide, and the susurrus of sloshing puddles and a raincoat being removed drew Neville's gaze up from his smoky lapsang souchong.

There she was, forever five minutes early, his friend and erstwhile lover, Luna Lovegood.

She beamed at him, shaking out her mustard yellow umbrella and casting a drying charm on her tie-dyed purple caftan. A riot of color in the grey London gloom.

He stood up, and his Wellington boots squeaked.

"Hello," she said, advancing with her typically languid, face-first gait.

"Hi," he said. He pulled her into a one-armed hug. "Missed you."

"Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

He released her. She was thinner and more windburned than she had been the last time he'd seen her. But she often returned somewhat worse for wear from her naturalist's excursions into the wild. And perhaps living above a tavern had developed in him an impulse to worry a little about everyone. So many nights listening to the most unlikely people spin their tales of woe, and occasionally calling the Knight Bus for wizards too soused to Apparate or Floo home.

She tilted her head quizzically. "Hannah's pregnant, then," she said.

He spluttered, then laughed. "How on earth do you know that?"

"Just your expression. You look like Harry did before James was born. And your eyes are all shiny, like new sickles."

"Yeah. She is. Blimey, Luna, not even her friends know yet. Honestly, you could teach Divination."

"Oh, I don't divine. I just observe. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

She stowed her wand in her pocket. "Have you thought of names yet?"

"Nah, it's only been two months. I think the creative spirit will move us at some point. Come. Sit. Want a sandwich?"

She shook her head. "I try not to eat too much food before long-distance apparition. It tends to re-emerge onto one's traveling companions."

"Suppose it does, yeah."

He remembered a little about that from his Auror days.

He scooted down the leather-backed booth and she climbed in next to him, tucking her dragon-hide boots under her folded legs. Luna rarely put her feet on the floor. She was always above it – perching, floating, flying.

"I thought I saw a kappa outside Flourish and Blott's. They like puddles. But we're a bit too far west, I think," she said.

"We had one at Hogwarts last year. New Defense professor brought one in."

"How lovely. Did you offer it a cucumber?"

"Not personally, no. Is that what you're supposed to do with kappas?"

"That is Scamander's recommendation. The elder Scamander, I mean. I'm not sure of Rolf's opinion on the matter. I'll have to ask him when we get to the States."

Neville swirled his tea leaves in the centimeter of liquid that remained. They swayed like river grass. "That where you're headed next?"

"Yes. I'll be very interested to see what he's like in person. I've never actually met Rolf. Though we've been pen pals since I was thirteen."

Her silvery eyes seemed miles away, but whether she was melancholy or happy or just thinking abstractly, Neville could not say. Luna remained in some ways an enigma to him, even though he knew her as well as anybody probably could.

"Lu, sure you don't want anything? Butterbeer, even?"

"Oh, yes, that would be nice. I think I'll be safe with that."

Neville waggled an arm at the new barman, with whom he had developed a kind of shorthand. A pair of beers arrived a moment later, sweating condensation.

"Shall we get on with it?" he asked.

"Indeed, let's," she said, producing a large, lumpen drawstring bag from beneath her robes.

Neville reached across the table and dragged forth a tacklebox with a magical lock on the front. He keyed it open with his wand and took out a dried, knotty fungus the size of a fist.

"Do _not_ tell Hermione I gave you this," he said. "It's a Class C non-tradable."

She turned it around in her hand. "Hmm. Much knobblier than in pictures, isn't it? Here's mine."

She pushed a corked, galleon-sized vial toward him. He popped it open and Accio'd the contents – almond-sized seeds that rattled and vibrated on the oak table top.

"Brilliant," he said. "Think I'll put them in greenhouse four. Can't get these in Britain anymore."

"They are rather lethal," she said. She sipped her beer, blinking slowly, dreamily.

He leaned back against the booth, propping up one knee and resting his elbow on it. "What're you hunting in the States? Jobberknolls? Chupacabra?"

"Jackalopes," she said, "in the southwest."

"Oh, can you bring me some _Croton capitatus_? Hogwort, that is. For sentimental reasons."

"I will keep an eye out."

"Appreciate it. Furry little plant. Silver leaves. You'll know it when you see it."

A serene smile blossomed across her lips and crinkled the corners of her eyes. "You look your age now, Neville. In the best possible way. You look more like _you._ You'll be a lovely father."

"Thanks, Lu."

The door opened again, and as the black umbrella descended, Neville laid eyes on Teddy Lupin, who was sixteen and looked it, with his skinny jeans and wrists ringed in a dozen paper concert bracelets of neon hues. He strongly resembled his father. Once in a while, Neville had the distinct impression that he was looking at a very young, very hipster Professor Lupin. Teddy had the same straight nose and the same haunted eyes.

Teddy glided over to them, iPod buds still jammed into his ears, green rucksack slung over one shoulder.

Neville covered his face casually with his hand and whispered one word to Luna. "Victoire."

"Yes, I thought so," she said quietly.

Teddy's painful crush on his godfather's niece had been obvious to everyone for the last year.

Teddy took out his ear buds. "Wotcher," he said, in a voice barely above a whisper. For a kid with blue hair, he was surprisingly soft-spoken.

"Hullo, Ted."

"Hi, Professor. Hi, Luna."

Teddy allowed Luna to pat him on the arm as he slumped into the booth beside her. Neville stowed the rattling seeds in the tacklebox; it would be unwise to parade contraband in front of a student. Even one as perennially low-key as the one sitting before him.

"Gran told me to pack a jumper, but I told her it's going to be too hot," said Teddy. "It's the _desert_."

Neville felt very much in sympathy with Teddy. Neville knew what it was like to be a teenager raised by your grandmother, always a little out of sync with your peers, feeling both older and younger than everyone at the same time. Only a boy like this would show up to the first day of school with a toad, that uncoolest and most passé of pets. Perhaps there was something to what Luna had just said – that he finally looked his age.

"Want to send an owl," said Teddy. "Be right back."

Neville waited for the boy to walk out of earshot before saying, "Nothing like being sixteen with a horrible crush, is there?"

Luna looked pensive. "There are some things like it. The bite of the venomous Tahitian trumpet snail, for example, produces powerful feelings not unlike unrequited love."

Neville grinned at her. He was long past finding her comical, or odd. He grinned because she was Luna, and because she didn't give a damn what anyone thought of her, and because he loved her for that and a million other reasons.

"Do you ever wish things had worked out? With you and me?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It wouldn't have. You garden. You have to stay in one place. Whereas I can't stay in one place. You know that expression, about the fish who loves a bird. Besides, you love Hannah, and you are both extremely happy. No, I regret nothing, Neville. Why, do you?"

He toyed with his tea spoon. "No, I guess not. It was fun, though."

"You mean that summer when we had sex every day for two months."

He blushed. "Yeah. That."

"I agree. It was most edifying. That time in the hammock in particular."

" _Merlin._ I forgot about that." He laughed. "Depraved."

She finished her beer, nonplussed.

"Well, it's good of you to take Teddy along. He could use a change of scenery," said Neville.

"Yes. He likes interesting creatures. Family trait, I think."

Teddy returned, shoulders pitched forward in the universal posture of adolescent ennui. "It's half-past. Don't we have to be there at three?" he asked.

"Yes," said Luna. "Best not to be late. I'll see you later, Neville."

"Same time next month?" asked Neville.

"If our expedition is successful, yes, we should be back by then. I'll write to you." She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Tell Hannah I said congratulations."

"I will."

She beamed again.

Neville watched them leave – the eccentric blonde explorer and the brooding teenage boy. They opened their umbrellas into the grey, slanting drizzle. The wooden door swung closed behind them.

He wondered what sort of adventure they were in for, and what fruits the summer would bear.


	2. Port to Port

Teddy knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Victoire Weasley would never, ever love him, and that he might as well resign himself to a life of quiet misery.

Blonde, freckly Victoire, who spoke French and who cast spells of such delicate beauty that his hair stood on end whenever she said _Reparo_. To look at her and not be loved by her was to daily have his liver torn from him and eaten by vultures, like Prometheus. It was hopeless. And because she was his godfather's niece, and a fellow Ravenclaw, he was _constantly_ running into her. And staring awkwardly at her. And saying the most idiotic things to her. Thoroughly cocking it up, in other words.

So when Luna had offered to take him abroad for the summer, Teddy had jumped at the chance. Luna, his surrogate aunt, his fairy godmother and Obi Wan Kenobi rolled into one. She would put him on board the Millennium Falcon and get him the hell off of Tattoine, and then he wouldn't have to bear running into Victoire's obscenely lovely visage for a while. He would go to the States, to the desert, and chase down a magical rabbit with the horns of a stag and the tail of a pheasant, and try to forget about the sun-dusted cheeks and rosy mouth of his peerless inamorata.

Teddy marched through the rainy streets of Diagon Alley in step with Luna. His rucksack bounced against him. He had, in fact, capitulated to his grandmother's wishes and packed a jumper.

Luna scanned the shop signs and window displays with her impassive gaze. She perceived, but did not judge. She accepted and she assimilated. Teddy liked that about her. Nothing he did ever caused her to look at him with pity. You got a certain amount of that by default, as an orphan. And an even greater amount when you were the orphan of well-liked war heroes. A lot of people Luna's age would wax rhapsodic about the year his father came to teach at Hogwarts when they found out who Teddy was. And then their faces would draw inward, remembering that the man was dead. On the one hand, Teddy liked hearing about Dad, and his grindylow in a tank, but on the other, it gave Teddy an inexplicable urge to kick something. Luna was a respite from all of that.

She stopped in front of a red brick edifice with a weathered sign reading _Portkeyes and Desplinchment Aides, Ltd._

"After you, Teddy," she said, folding her umbrella.

Teddy adjusted his rucksack and squeezed through the narrow door. He stowed his umbrella in the golden umbrella stand at the entrance. Then he heard an echoing clang and looked back to see that it had swallowed the umbrella, as if this were the last hole in mini golf.

"They'll hold it for you," said Luna. "Until we get back. You won't need it where we're going."

Teddy was not totally convinced. He thought he heard a sound like giant teeth crunching together under the floor.

Teddy took in the dusty, dim shop. Wall to wall shelves were crammed with chipped teacups, old boots, and Monopoly pieces. Portkeys, surely. Teddy wasn't sure was a "desplinchment aide" was and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. However, on the other hand, wit beyond measure... He picked up a ceramic salt shaker shaped like a garden gnome. The gnome opened its mouth and bit him.

"Ow," he said, slamming the salt shaker down hard.

"Hmm. The bites are only effective with regular garden gnomes, as far as I know," said Luna. "Still. If you feel a surge of talent coming on, you might try to lean into it. You never know."

Teddy nodded. He felt nothing new, except maybe a dull annoyance at the treacherous salt shaker.

"Hello, Stan," said Luna to a skinny man behind a counter.

She made pleasant conversation with him while he assembled a parcel of portkeys for her. Meanwhile, Teddy continued perusing the odd portkeys, though he didn't pick up any more of them.

At five minutes to three, Stan ushered them into a fusty back room and handed them a broken lamp shaped like a pineapple. He bid them safe travels and returned to the counter.

"I'm glad you're coming with me, Edward," said Luna, smiling. "I do like having a traveling companion very much."

"Thanks," mumbled Teddy.

The lamp glowed blue and they touched it at the same time. Teddy blinked. When he opened his eyes again, they stood on a grassy hillside above a cliff overlooking the sea. The salty breeze tore at their hair.

"Where are we?" asked Teddy.

"Reencaheragh," said Luna. "On the western coast of Ireland. This way there is less distance to Apparate across, you see."

Teddy drank it in for a moment. The pink and yellow wild flowers, the grass so green it seemed to glow, the foamy waves bowing prostrate against the cliffs over and over, as if in prayer. The scene contrasted abruptly with urban noise and smog of London.

"Right," said Teddy. "And we take another portkey once we're across?"

"I usually do. Unfortunately their range is rather limited, so we do have to Apparate across the Atlantic at the very least. Ready?"

"Yeah." Teddy held out his arm. He had never Apparated before, much less Apparated with another person across a large body of water.

But Luna seemed to be a dab hand at this. She threaded her fingers through his and gripped his other arm tightly. He felt like they were about to waltz.

"The important thing is to breathe," she said.

Then she closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose. Teddy wondered if he should do the same.

"Luna – " he started to say.

But before he could finish speaking, he felt a powerful tug behind his navel, yanking him as if from the inside of his spine, the basin of his pelvis. Light bent strangely around them as they seemed to stretch and revolve and shrink all at once. Bands constricted him, time slowed to a trickle, and the air he managed to suck in was salt, salt, salt.

And then, all at once, the bands lifted, and they stood in another green field, but the sun hung in the east, mid-morning. Tall stalks of purple flowers swayed in the breeze. Teddy staggered back, disoriented, before regaining his footing.

Luna smiled at him and patted him on the arm. "That's right. Not that bad, is it?"

Teddy shook his head. "No."

"Wonderful," she said. "Many people vomit the first time. Especially during transcontinental Apparition."

Teddy wondered if this was a compliment, but as usual, Luna said things without any particular inflection, so it was hard to tell. She handed him a vacuum flask full of bitter herbal tea, and he drank.

"Where are we now?" he asked.

"Canada. Prince Edward Island. And those –" she pointed to the swaying flowers, "are lupins. Although Neville would say _Lupinus polyphyllus_."

_Lupins._ _Like me_ , he thought.

After that, a series of portkeys transported them down the coast of Canada and into the States. The last one brought them to another fusty room, though this one had a lemony, antiseptic smell unlike the one in Diagon Alley. Luna opened the door, led Teddy down an industrial-looking corridor, and ushered him into a freight elevator.

"Oh, they've redecorated," said Luna, idly stroking the orange bubble wrap draped over the walls of the lift.

Teddy looked at the dial indicating the floor numbers as they ascended. There were a lot of non-integers – floor 6 ½. Floor 3.141.

The lift doors opened and Luna led him outside. Teddy had a chaotic first impression of the square – streets freshly painted with yellow dashed lines, youths in ironically twee and garish outfits, shops advertising their wares in large-print Helvetica, and an old man playing chess with a five-year-old girl under an oak tree.

"This is Union Square," said Luna, who had caught on that Teddy kept asking where they were, "in Manhattan. Hungry? There's a very nice noodle shop down that way."

She pointed. He nodded.

New York City in August was sweaty and hectic. As they walked, Teddy stripped off his hoodie and stuffed it into his rucksack, and Luna pinned her hair up to cool her long neck.

Teddy realized, with a fiddly sensation in his stomach that was both pleasant and disturbing, that he had not thought about Victoire Weasley for a whole hour.


	3. Meeting, Part One

Luna was glad to be back in New York and back in the company of people. She had spent the past week in Antarctica, fulfilling a promise to scatter her father's ashes on all seven continents. Antarctica had been windy and cold, and the errand had been somber, though of course Luna knew full well that the departed were always there if you needed them, and that death was anything but the end. As she had released the last of the ashes into the wind, with the fur of her parka hood whipping around her face, she had spotted a flock of magical penguins gamboling on the ice, popping in and out of sight in purple puffs of smoke. She knew her father would like that.

But New York was vibrant, and full of interesting people and creatures, and you could always find a hot bowl of freshwater plimpy soup somewhere in the city.

Additionally, she was here with Teddy Lupin, whom she had counted as a friend ever since he was a baby. In a way, he was everybody's baby. During the summer after Voldemort's defeat, when the hot days were filled with funerals, many people had taken comfort in holding baby Teddy, this living symbol of renewal and hope, this part-Muggleborn, part-pureblood boy with a dash of werewolf. He seemed an embodiment of what they had all fought for. And he had been a delightful baby, always changing his hair to mirror whoever was talking to him, and always laughing. He had grown into a delightful boy, too.

However, Luna had noticed that Teddy had gone mopey with first love, rather as Ginny had done over Harry half a lifetime ago. But on the whole, Teddy was proving a suitable traveling companion. He had adapted without complaint to the change in weather and time, and he had done a transatlantic side-along Apparition without regurgitating his breakfast.

As they turned onto Fourth Avenue, Luna surreptitiously cast a Patronus behind a bus stop. It darted away, unnoticed by the Muggles in the street. That was another thing she liked about New York – no one batted an eye at magic.

"The noodle shop's just there, Teddy," she said, pointing out the restaurant tucked between a mobile phone store and a boutique.

They took a table in the back. Teddy propped his rucksack on a chair. When the food arrived, he leaned forward on his elbows, inhaling steam from his bowl of ramen. After a few minutes, a red-headed man in horn-rimmed glasses appeared outside the window, and Luna waved. The bell over the door tinkled as he opened it.

"Hello, Percival," she said.

Percy Weasley joined them by the table, though he did not sit down.

"Hello, Luna. Hello, Teddy. I got your message. I can't stay. Both of the children have got dragon pox, and I'm on handkerchief duty in ten minutes," said Percy.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," said Luna. "Have you tried the usual things – powdered knarl quill, essence of murtlap?"

"Mum said she used dittany on all of us."

"Yes, I can see that. None of you have got any ulcers left. I just saw Ron this morning, and his skin looked very clear. He sends his love, by the way. And Hermione sends this."

Luna produced her drawstring bag from under her robes and pulled out several fat scrolls of parchment which were stamped with the wax seal of the Ministry of Magic. Percy unrolled one and scanned the fine print, his eyes alight with joy at so much legal jargon.

"Oh, no, she can't. She's got another thing coming if she thinks... oh, no, this is too good, _too good_..." Percy abruptly realized that he was talking to himself in his excitement. He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. "Well, thank you for delivering this important document, Luna. The Department for International Magical Cooperation owes you a debt of gratitude."

"You're welcome, Percival. Tell your lovely American wife I say hello, and that the book she sent was most useful."

"Yes, I will, of course. She'll be pleased to hear it."

Percy kissed Luna politely on the cheek.

"Safe travels to both of you," he said, and then departed, reading the open scroll with gusto as he walked.

Teddy swallowed a forkful of noodles and raised an eyebrow. "You're practically running an international courier service," he said. "Don't you get tired of people asking you to carry stuff around for them?"

Luna leaned her head to one side, considering his question. "No, I don't. I like doing things for friends. I think Rowena Ravenclaw was a bit wrong when she said wit was man's greatest treasure. I think friends are." She stirred the broth in front of her. "Also, I think when someone asks you to send their love, you get to carry that love around inside you for a while, which is very pleasant."

Teddy blinked. For a moment his expression went soft. Then he tipped his noodle soup into his mouth and his face was obscured by the wide, blue-and-white patterned bowl.

Luna picked out a stem of cilantro from her soup and chewed it. "I did tell Rolf we would come by around twelve."

"I'm ready. Let's go," said Teddy.

They paid and left.

Back in Union Square, hiphop blasted from the open doors of four-story shops, all optimistic percussion and rhyming bravado. The humidity remained unrepentant.

"This should be it," said Luna, opening a glass door.

"The _Starbucks_?" asked Teddy, incredulous.

"Sort of behind it, I would think," said Luna. "Or possibly between it. I expect we'll find out."

The cafe smelled of sweat and espresso. No one looked up. Luna stopped in front of two doors marked _Staff Only Beyond This Point_.

"What do you think, Teddy? Does one of these feel more magical than the other?"

Teddy shrugged. "I don't know. The left one?"

"The left one it is."

She opened the door, and they found a narrow hallway with dirty, checkered tile floors, which they walked through for what felt like several minutes. Then the hallway veered left, revealing a dead end and two richly carved wood doors. The carvings were mostly of animals, though there were a few tea kettles, too.

"Well done, Teddy," said Luna. "Why don't you knock, since you found it."

Teddy lifted a silver knocker and rapped it twice. Luna heard soft, slightly metallic footsteps approach. Whoever was coming to meet them must have been wearing shoes with bells on them, or maybe spurs.

No, they were studs, Luna realized as the doors opened. Boots with metal studs. The young woman who answered the door looked about nineteen. She had long, dark hair, olive skin, and a delicately hooked nose, which vaguely recalled Professor Snape, except that on her it was striking in an attractive way. She wore frayed jean shorts and a t-shirt bearing the legend _#fuckyeahquodpot_. Luna got the impression that the young woman had an acerbic sense of humor.

Just beyond her, Luna could see a large, golden room decorated in a 1920s, Art Deco style. Birds of all species loitered throughout the room – a quetzalcoatl, a diricawl, a pair of golden snidgets.

The young woman's eyes lingered over Teddy, sizing him up. He averted his gaze politely, allowing her to look at him for a beat before flicking his eyes back to her. Luna had noticed that teenagers often did this to each other when meeting for the first time. It was not unlike the greeting dance of the Ecuadorian winged sloth, although the latter of course lasted for several hours.

"Hello," said Luna, extending her hand, "you must be Lola."

"Rolf," called Lola in a deadpan voice, the corner of her lip hitching up in a smirk, "some British people are in the foyer."


	4. Meeting, Part Two

_Described variously as 'a fearsome critter', the 'chimera of the Sierra Nevada,' and 'a very bad-tempered rabbit with antlers.'_ Lepus temperamentalis _is also rumored to prefer a saucer of whiskey before bedtime. The jackalope is a mischievous trickster known to imitate human voices, frighten livestock, and teach swear words to children. This writer has yet to personally encounter the great and terrible jackalope, but I hope to remedy this in the weeks to come._

_-from the desk of Rolf Scamander_

_..._

Upon meeting Rolf Scamander, the first phrase that popped into Teddy's head was "mad scientist."

Rolf bounded into the drawing room, grinning and wearing a bathrobe over his aubergine pajamas. He had curly, wild hair, a bit like Hermione's, which he had swept back with a bandana. He looked about forty and had a lot of laugh lines.

"Taste this," said Rolf, foisting on Luna a wooden spoon full of something that looked like cat sick. "I used your recipe, but now that I think about it, I may have gone overboard on the gurdyroot. Or maybe North American gurdyroots are bigger in the first place."

His accent sounded mostly American, but with a weird inflection hinting that he had traveled often, picking up bits of dialect from all over the world.

Luna obliged him and sampled the concoction. "It is very nice," she said. "On the bitter side, but I don't mind that at all. Did you mean for it to be this color?"

"I don't know, it just kind of came out that way," said Rolf, scratching his temple. "Oh my gosh, come in, come in. Nice to meet you, at long last! Look at you two, you look just like I thought you would. I've been saying all morning, the British are coming, the British are coming! One if by land, two if by sea! But maybe it's only funny to me."

Teddy smiled politely as Rolf beckoned them into the room. It was more of an aviary, really. Luna took in the scene with her usual detached interest. A diricawl, heretofore invisible, appeared on a divan and settled itself onto the cushions.

"Get off the sofa, dodo, you know you're not allowed," said Rolf. "Pardon me, I'm being a terrible host. But I feel like I already know you! Teddy, can you believe Luna and I have been pen pals for nineteen years and never met? That's nuts. Anywho. Introductions. Dolores, Teddy, Teddy, Dolores. Dolores is my summer research assistant."

Lola pursed her lips. "He means I'm the intern. And don't call me Dolores."

"They're English, Lola, they're much more formal than we are."

"No, we're not," said Teddy.

Lola rolled her eyes.

Rolf beamed, if possible, more brightly. "Man, am I excited for this trip. Luna, you want to join me in the kitchen? I have, like, six potions going, and I want to hear all your news."

"Oh, yes, I would love to join you," said Luna, following the madman through the maze of furniture and birds. Both golden snidgets landed on her shoulder and sang in harmony. Teddy thought she looked like the world's weirdest Disney princess.

That left Teddy alone in a strange room with a surly witch in studded boots who looked like she had just been given a disappointing birthday present. The shrieks of macaws punctuated the awkward silence.

"So like, you go to Hogwarts?" asked Lola.

"Yeah. I do. Do you go to the American one, Salem?"

"I did. I graduated last year."

"Oh."

Another awkward silence.

She pointed at one of his concert bracelets. "Does that say Arcade Fire?"

Teddy nodded. "Yeah. I saw them in Hammersmith a couple of weeks ago. Really good concert."

With a squint and a twist of her mouth, Lola seemed to decide Teddy was acceptable company.

"Come on, we have a massive shopping list for this trip. You can help me carry stuff," she said.

She handed him a sheet of paper that looked like it had been torn from a spiral-bound notebook. The handwriting had to be Rolf's; it had that mad genius quality, with swooping g's and emphatically dotted i's. Teddy read down the list.

_dragon blood_

_wolfsbane_

_a shovel_

_6 gallons whiskey_

_butterfly net_

_Venomous tentacula seeds_

_film developing potion_

_coffee beans, preferably dark roast_

_extra bungee cords_

_thank you!_

"Come on," said Lola, sighing. "You need a metro card. Wolfsbane is way cheaper in Brooklyn."

Teddy heard Luna's scream of a laugh issue from the kitchen. She usually only laughed like that around Ron Weasley. Rolf laughed too – an equally weird laugh, like a yipping dog.

Teddy followed Lola through the carved doors, the dirty hallway, and the Starbucks, and then into the subway station. They took seats on the eastbound L, and Lola pecked at her mobile phone the entire time.

"Do you even get reception down here?" asked Teddy as they passed under the East River.

"You know that quote, 'any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic?' It goes both ways," she said.

She did not elaborate, but Teddy took that to mean she had magically hacked her phone. He wondered what sort of apps she had on it. Thumping good ones, probably.

The next few hours were a blur of underground magical emporia, potions supply shops disguised as bodegas, and American wizards casting spells with a New York accent. ( _Alohomora_ never sounded so strident as when cast by a huge man in a sweaty Mets jersey.) Teddy thought the time difference might be catching up with him, because he felt distracted and sleepy. When they returned to Scamander's loft, Lola led Teddy down a dodgy stairwell that led to a subterranean parking garage. She flicked her wand and a candy apple red convertible drove itself up to the curb. She caught Teddy's puzzled expression and snorted.

"Can't Apparate with all this crap," she said. "Gotta take the car."

She popped open the boot of the car, which Teddy was sure had been amended with an undetectable extension charm, and laid the bags of supplies into it. There were already a dozen other parcels in there. She then tapped something into her phone, and seconds later, Rolf and Luna appeared at the bottom of the stairs, holding milk crates and hatboxes which Teddy assumed were full of luggage. Rolf had changed clothes and now wore a bright green djellaba.

"You wanna ride shotgun, Ted?" asked Rolf.

Teddy shrugged. "Okay."

He climbed into the front seat, noting that it was on the wrong side. He'd been in a car a few times with the elder Mr. Weasley, and a few other times with Harry, who seemed to have learned to drive from watching movies. Lola swung her bare, tan legs over the driver's seat and snapped her wand at what probably had once been the ignition, before whatever Frankenstein-ian spellwork that had rejiggered its guts.

"You're driving?" Teddy asked her.

"Oh, yeah, I'm totally hopeless at driving," Rolf interjected from the back seat. "Can't get my head around it. Fantastic fauna yes, technology not so much. Lola's from out west, though, so she's used to it. All those wide open spaces. Too big for portkeys."

Luna perched on the seat next to Rolf and underlined passages in a book with her quill. Rolf leaned close to confer with her, occasionally saying things like "yes, I agree" and "that's the real kicker, though."

Lola drove them out of the parking garage and into an alley. As she turned onto the main drag, she pressed a button that caused the car to compress itself and dodge past the cabs and trucks in the road. Then they were on a bridge, and then a highway, and then she pressed hard on the gas, ratcheting up the velocity. Urban jungle became suburban sprawl which became deciduous forest. The speedometer said two hundred miles an hour.

"What'll happen to all your birds?" asked Teddy.

"Don't worry, I have a birdsitter," said Rolf. "Hey, did you know that the old London bridge is in the middle of the Arizona desert? Some wealthy Muggle had them ship it piece by piece and reconstruct it. Totally covered in wrackspurts, though."

And with that, Rolf and Luna began a long conversation about wrackspurts and nargles that did not end for three hours.

"Muffliato," said Lola. She jerked her head at Teddy. "Put some music on."

Teddy whipped out his iPod. "What sort of music?"

"Anything."

She flicked her wand at his iPod, magically hacking it, just like her phone.

"But no emo shit, okay?" she said. "I can tell you listen to some sappy-ass songs."

"Do not," said Teddy, even though she had been perfectly correct. "I have proper road trip music."

"Good."

He queued up a disco number and leaned back to watch her reaction.

"Retro," she said, almost approvingly.

And now the time change caught up with him in earnest. As they sped through mountains and towns and never-ending fields of corn and soybeans swaying in the wind, Teddy stretched out his long limbs, blinked up at the vast blue sky, and fell asleep.


	5. Camp

Pink and grey morning light painted the sky when Teddy woke. Dry fields of grass and sunflowers rushed past the car window. He could feel the seam of the upholstered seat depressed into his cheek, as well as the vague, confused hunger of jetlag. Lola shuffled through the tracks on his iPod and landed on a quiet song with mellow guitars.

He had dreamed about Victoire – she was in Rolf's New York apartment, sitting on a divan, preening her feathers, because she did have feathers in the dream – she had been part human, part swan. Around her, white down had fallen from the ceiling like snow.

Luna and Rolf had stayed up all night talking, and now their voices were low and hoarse. Luna was recounting the events of her sixth year at Hogwarts, the year she had been kidnapped right off the Hogwarts Express and imprisoned in a cellar at Malfoy Manor for four months. Rolf periodically interjected with odd questions, like what kind of mold was growing on the walls of the cellar, and how many centaurs had joined the final battle to defeat Voldemort. Ever the connoisseur of creatures.

"Hey," said Lola, noticing that Teddy had woken and re-casting the Muffliato spell. "You snore really weird. What's wrong with your nose?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, "it changes when I sleep sometimes. I'm a Metamorphmagus."

She clicked her tongue. "So that's why your hair is like that. Most people, when they dye their hair, the color doesn't go all the way to the roots."

"No, it's really blue."

"Yeah. There was a girl at Salem like you. But she didn't really do much with it. I think she was embarrassed."

Teddy frowned. "Can't imagine why. It's good fun, actually. I've got into a lot of clubs because I made myself look over age."

Lola's face was impassive at Teddy's confession.

She turned the car onto a slowly sloping road. Hundreds of Saguaro cacti stood half in shadow in the morning light, each one man-sized, with two outstretched arms, like soldiers frozen mid-campaign.

"We're almost there. Took the scenic route. I think Rolf's in love with your aunt," she said.

"She's not my aunt. She's – well, I don't know if there's a word for it. She's a friend of my godfather's."

"She's been talking about Harry Potter for the last hour."

"Yeah, that's him. That's my godfather."

She caught her jaw before it gaped open. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, I'm not."

She stared at Teddy as if she needed to refocus her eyes. Then her lips twitched. "Bad ass," she said.

Teddy smirked and looked away. He had not intended to play that card, but he enjoyed getting a rise out of Lola. He wanted to jerk her snarky affect away like an old bandage. However, this urge was not motivated by romantic interest. He did find her objectively attractive, in an intimidating brunette sort of way, but she was no Victoire. Maybe he was just tired of her acting like his aggrieved babysitter.

Teddy's ears popped as the altitude climbed, and he metamorphosed away the pressure in his eardrums. The landscape grew rockier, redder. Some of the rock faces resembled human profiles. The sun had cleared the horizon in the east, and a nearly-full moon hung in the west like a milky eye.

How his father must have hated and feared the moon. Teddy could imagine it, though he himself felt no pull whatsoever from that barren satellite. He had inherited his mother's changeable hair and his father's face, and that was all.

Teddy wondered whether Bill Weasley or his children felt particularly lycanthropic around the full moon. They never seemed to. Theirs was not a melancholy household; Teddy knew this from growing up in constant contact with the extended Potter-Weasley clan. Shell Cottage was moody in a French sort of way, with passionate arguments and guffawing resolutions. Victoire was the quietest of the lot, but she could yowl with the best of them when she was hacked off about something. Chalk it up to the Veela great-grandmother. And in a way, that made the possibility of her rejection even scarier – it might burst out of her like dragon flames: fuck off, Teddy. _Va te faire foutre._

Teddy had not always felt so intensely about her. They had been friends as children – close in age, and reasonably close in temperament – but he'd started fancying her a year ago, and suddenly he couldn't string together three words without the whiplash of crushing self-doubt. His longing overwhelmed him.

"Good morning, Edward," said Luna dreamily from the backseat.

"Wotcher," he said, turning around to face her. "See any fantastic beasts last night?"

"A winged buffalo, I think," she said, tilting her head in thought, "although it may have been a mooncalf."

Lola decelerated the car, and they parked in a red expanse of desert with scrubby bushes. Rolf made a fuss of opening the door for Luna, and then they set to work raising the tents and setting up the supplies.

"I hope you don't mind bunking with Luna," said Rolf. "The other tent is Lola's, and I like sleeping under the stars."

"No. I don't mind."

"Huzzah. Do you like breakfast tacos?"

"I've never had them," said Teddy.

"Oh! You are missing out. Worry not! I make very good ones. Lola, friendly reminder, it's eight o'clock," said Rolf.

"I know," said Lola, her expression darkening. She slinked off to her tent and swished the flaps closed.

After breakfast, Teddy settled into his twin bed and reread the letter Harry's daughter Lily had given him two days ago. She was six, and boisterous, and completely obsessed with both Teddy and Luna. Apparently, the idea of the two of them on an adventure together had sent her into a fugue of creativity, because she had included several exuberant drawings of stick-legged heads that Teddy guessed were supposed to be himself, Luna, and a jackalope.

Love was so much simpler when you were six.

…

Rolf spread out his well-worn sleeping bag in the shade of Luna's tent and laid atop it, crossing his hands over his chest. Here he was, on an expedition with her at last. Luna fricking Lovegood. His pen pal for nearly two decades. They had _nearly_ met a half-dozen times before. They travelled in the same circles and knew a lot of the same people on the magical beasts circuit – Charlie Weasley the dragon specialist, and Hagrid the dangerous creature generalist. But Rolf and Luna had always been ships passing in the night, coming and going.

He still had her very first letter, written in response to an article he had published about his travels in Africa. It had been so unexpected and charming, this peculiar missive from a little English girl, barely thirteen years old, writing so earnestly about blibbering humdingers, with such lovely British turns of phrase. To Rolf, it had felt like something from a novel, or a nursery rhyme. Rolf had nearly as much Anglophilia as he had zoophilia, and the combination thereof made him laugh with pleasure, even now. He had been twenty-one when he received that letter. In a way, it had shaped his career, to write to her, and to be written to by her.

Over the years, they had divulged nearly everything to one another. Secrets, theories, recipes, aspirations. She had grown, and so had he. The Luna in his mind was an Athena, an abstract bastion of wit. But the Luna he had met yesterday was decidedly more corporeal. Leggier than he had imagined. And with fantastically messy, wavy blonde hair, like the mermaids of Gibraltar.

…

Luna slept in her bunk, dreaming of rabbits, and snorkacks, and ashes on the wind.

When she woke, she took out her watercolors and painted a picture of the winged buffalo she thought she might have seen in Oklahoma.

…

Lola glared at the yellowing canvas ceiling of her tent and thought of her ex-boyfriend, Robert. She had not seen him since graduation from Salem a year ago. After she had received her diploma, and a special award for Potions, she had sat on a grassy hill and sobbed her eyes out.

She wondered if she would ever see him again.

…

The expedition party reconvened at sundown and shared supper around a campfire. Rolf regaled them with an anecdote about his recent poker game with a Yeti. Fortunately for Rolf, the Yeti had won, and Rolf had thus been spared the indignity of being parted from his limbs over a straight flush.

Everyone shared their notes and thoughts on the fabled jackalope. They discussed whether they should look in the open desert, or near a town, or in the maze of tall rock formations to the west.

In the morning, their quest would truly begin.


	6. A Late Start

Rolf noticed that Luna buttered her toast a certain way: corners first, center last. Five distinct strokes. Perhaps British nargles were more particular about toast than American ones. The ones in Manhattan would snatch your toast right out of your hand, regardless of how you buttered it. Though they preferred bagels.

"It's such a trip, finally meeting you after a million years," he said, his elbows on the rickety card table in her tent. "We almost met at that aquatic beasts convention in Wales, remember?"

"Yes, I remember. My friend Ginny was having a baby. I went to see her."

"That must have been the youngest one, Lily Luna."

She smiled serenely. "That's right. It was nice of Ginny to give her my name. It's almost like having family."

Oh, _Luna._ However frank she was about it, and however resilient, she was alone now, with Xenophilius gone. Even at thirteen, Luna had written her letters with the unmistakable vibe of a lonely, weirdo kid – the sort of girl who read freaky fringe literature and danced alone at parties. Rolf knew, because he had been a lonely weirdo kid, too. And he knew better than anybody how isolating this line of work could be – constant travel, long weeks in uninhabited lands, forgetting the sound of your own voice.

But Luna had done something Rolf admired, which was to cultivate an extensive social network. She knew wizards in almost every city, and she always remembered to say hello, and to send thank-you notes. Moreover, she was never ingratiating or falsely cheerful about it; she was just herself, her blunt, strange self, and she was loved for it. _Very_ loved, to have Harry Potter name his only daughter after her. Luna's friends were her family. The fact that she had brought her friend's godson halfway around the world just to shake him out of a funk was proof of that.

Rolf had known all this from her letters, but to see her, to observe her perched in his green folding chair, with her slender, bare feet turned up in lotus position, and a chipped teacup in her hand – this amazed him still.

She was beautiful in a slightly awkward way, like a John Currin painting – the blonde curls, the slender arms often held at strange angles. The hint of a spectacular bosom, held in check by drapey, kooky fashion choices. Inwardly, he chastised himself for looking at her that way. Not because he still thought of her as a kid – she was thirty-two, she plainly was _not_ a kid – but because to desire her now would be utterly foolish. If it had taken twenty years for them to meet, how long would it be before they met again? And how wrecked would he be if they never did?

Difficult. Logistically difficult.

Further complicating the matter was that he was not an easy person to live with, and he knew it. He'd had his share of girlfriends; his eccentric habits and frequent travel always drove them away, though it usually drove them crazy first. He did not need Luna to join their number. She wasn't just some witch. She was different.

So he resolved that he would just enjoy watching her sit like that, tea in hand, tickling his Anglophilia with her adorable non-rhotic accent, her unpronounced r's. Rolf's grandfather had been English, and that was probably the root of this fascination. The man had had _a traveling kettle,_ of all things. He had met Rolf's grandmother at a nightclub in Harlem while hunting the Adirondack hinkypunk.

While Luna nibbled her toast, Rolf loaded film into his camera and made minor repairs to his enchanted compass.

Teddy crept out of bed and joined them – sleepy eyes and blue bedhead hair.

"Wotcher, Rolf," he said.

"Good morning, Ted."

"Breakfast! Brilliant," he said. "What sort of jam is this?"

"Cactus pear," said Rolf.

"Cool," said Teddy. "Never had it."

He unfolded another chair and took a place at the table. He was a lanky kid. Like, sixty percent elbows.

"So," Teddy said, his mouth half-full of toast, "just so I know, what's the endgame? Are we trying to catch a jackalope? Put it in a cage? Take it home with us?"

"Oh, no. I don't think it would appreciate that," said Luna. "Wizards used to hunt magical creatures, you know, and stuff them, but that's a bit cruel, isn't it? I think it's much better to write about them, and to take pictures. That way other people can learn about them."

"But I'd take a tail feather, if one fell off on its own," said Rolf. "Sometimes people think accounts of fantastic beasts are not credible – silly of them, but whatever – so a souvenir never hurts."

"And how do we find one? A jackalope?" asked Teddy.

"We'll try the obvious places first – potential food sources, nesting sites, anywhere sightings have been reported," said Rolf. "Ideally, we would observe one in the wild without being seen ourselves. Magical beasts tend to change their behavior around people. Shy, a lot of them, except Yetis and jarveys. So we'll try to find one in its native surroundings, just going about its daily routine. Candid camera. But failing that, we'll try to confront it directly. Possibly lure it to the camp, or just call it by name and see what happens. Sometimes that works."

"Oh, yes, snorkacks prefer to be called by name. The trouble is learning their names in the first place. They tend to be quite long, and rather Germanic," said Luna.

Rolf smiled. "I don't know if you realize, Ted, that Luna is a world authority on snorkacks. She was the first to conclusively document that the pygmy snorkack still exists in small colonies in Lapland. Fascinating creatures. Deeply magical. Very important work."

"How nice of you to say," said Luna, beaming.

"You're welcome. Does that answer your question, Ted?" asked Rolf.

"Yeah," said Teddy. "Yeah, I didn't especially want to kill one, or stun one."

Rolf turned his compass around and around, testing it. He tapped it with his wand a few times, and it glowed green.

…

At noon, the jackalope hunters Apparated to a canyon inscribed with Anasazi petroglyphs on the walls. This was old magic. _Really_ old magic.

Teddy and Lola chatted about the differences between Hogwarts and Salem, and Luna drew pictures of the petroglyphs in her notes. Rolf climbed up a craggy rock face and perched on a high, slanting rock thirty feet off the ground. He surveyed the canyon, and the three people below. He took out his compass and checked it. Then he gazed out at the horizon, hoping that by losing himself in this natural wonder for a while, he could let go of the other natural wonder that tugged at his heart: his increasing affection for Luna Lovegood.

This was as good a place as any to bury his heart. It could join the dinosaur footprints and petrified trees, and remain here into eternity, preserved by the dry desert air.

 _C'est la vie,_ he thought as he tried to let it go.

But he never finished. Below, he heard shouts and a scuffle.

"Hey! What the fuck!" he heard Lola say.

A cackle of laughter echoed against the canyon walls. Teddy bolted down a tunnel in the rock, kicking up a dust cloud. Luna tore after him, light on her feet, wand extended.

Rolf Apparated instantly, joining them on the ground. "What happened?" he asked.

Lola was livid. She struggled with the camera strap around her neck, finally snapping it away with her wand in frustration.

"That son of a bitch jackalope just stole my fucking phone!" she yelled.

Rolf grinned. The game had begun.


	7. The Lair, Part One

The four wizards ran along the narrow seam between the canyon walls until it sloped downward and became a tunnel. The jackalope hurtled ahead, its long rabbity feet kicking small rocks at its pursuers. The jackalope's laughter echoed off the stone, part Bugs Bunny snicker and part cowboy twang. Lola fell behind.

"Come back, you little piece of crap!" said Lola, breath ragged.

"Try saying its name," said Teddy, pausing to let her catch up. "Maybe it's like a snorkack that way."

"I don't know its name. It's not like it introduced itself before it pick-pocketed me!" she said.

"Have a guess, then!" said Teddy. "Go on. Jack! Jackalope!"

"Rumplefuckingstiltskin!" said Lola.

"Douglas!" said Teddy.

"Douglas?" asked Lola.

"I don't know, it was the first thing that popped into my head," said Teddy.

"Bob! Banana! Joanna!" Rolf joined in, laughing.

"It could be female, couldn't it?" agreed Luna. "Excellent point."

"Fifty percent chance, isn't there?" said Rolf. " _Lumos._ "

Bluish wand tips illuminated the dark tunnel. The sound of their footfalls magnified as they descended, and the shuffle and cackle of the jackalope faded. The wizards had the sense that they had crossed some invisible boundary between world and underworld, and were now truly in the lair of the jackalope. The tunnel began to look more and more like a cave, with stalactites and patches of shimmering quartz on the ceiling.

Yards behind them, the walls of the tunnel pressed together with a crunching, grinding hiss, like stone doors closing for the first time in millennia. All four wizards stopped. Luna fired a spell at the newly formed barricade, but the rock remained impenetrable. The other three tried it in turn, with the same result.

Now there was no way back.

The whites of Lola's eyes flashed in the dim cave. She grabbed her canteen and took a long swig.

"Not to worry," said Rolf. "Typical trickster figure, the jackalope. You see this kind of behavior a lot among magical fauna. Particularly the smaller ones that can't intimidate you with physical strength. Am I correct, Luna?"

"You are," Luna agreed. "We've rather put it on the defensive, I think."

As if to confirm this, a stalactite fell from the ceiling at that very moment, lancing the floor of the cave as if it were soft, yielding flesh. Magic, unquestionably. And inches from Luna's foot. Luna seemed completely nonplussed.

"Shit," said Lola.

"Well, folks, the only way out is through," said Rolf. "Worst-case scenario, we don't find the jackalope today and we Apparate back to camp."

"Hmm. I don't think we'll be able to Apparate," said Luna, running her hand across the cave wall and nodding. "I think it's been made impermeable. It's a bit like Hogwarts, or the cellar at the Malfoys'. You can feel it on the air. Sort of closed-feeling, isn't it?"

" _No_ ," said Lola. She turned on the spot, trying to Apparate out of the cave. Nothing happened. She tried again. She remained solid and present as before. "No, I can't be here," she said. She looked at Rolf, her eyes pleading. "You _know_ I can't," she said.

"No worries, Lola, just keep drinking," he said, nodding at her canteen, which was tied around her neck along with the camera. "It will be alright. I'll take the camera for a while."

Teddy wondered if Lola was claustrophobic.

"I don't think the tunnel will go on that far," said Luna. "It's a very small animal. Although you never know. Maybe he likes the commute. I'll say he, though I do agree it may be female."

Lola took another swig, grimaced, and flicked her eyes down the tunnel. "Let's just get out of here," said Lola.

As the wizards continued their descent, Teddy noticed puddles of water on the tunnel floor. As they trudged along, the puddles grew wider. And deeper. Then they rounded a corner into a vast, still underground lake. It seemed to glow from the bottom, with a dim, green light.

"Aquifer, do you reckon?" asked Teddy.

"Not sure," said Rolf. "Everybody can swim, right?"

Teddy and Lola nodded. Luna was already in the water, doing a slow, steady backstroke, as if she did this every week.

"Good," said Rolf, grinning at her.

Teddy had begun to agree with Lola's earlier assertion that Rolf had started to fancy Luna. They were birds of a feather. It was sort of sweet.

Teddy waded into the lake. After a meter or two, the bottom dropped off and his feet could no longer touch the bottom. He dog-paddled after Luna, enjoying the cool water after the comparatively hot afternoon in the canyon. It was not so bad, this trapped-in-a-cave-with-a-magical-beast thing.

Lola fell behind, and Luna circled back to help her.

"Sorry," said Lola. "I'm just tired."

Something sharp pricked Teddy's arm. He shot a hand at it, brushing it away like an insect. When he looked down, he saw that it was a small, silvery fish with pink, unseeing eyes. He swam ahead, overtaking Rolf, and felt another needle-thin stab in his leg.

"What are these?" Teddy asked Rolf.

Rolf looked from side to side. "I didn't see. What did they look like?"

"Weird little fish. Look like they've been kept in the dark. I mean, they have, I suppose. Two of them bit me."

"Luna," called Rolf. "There are _Dentichthys agitata_ in here. We need to move."

As Teddy watched, a swarm of the silver fish rose in front of him, forming a cloud he was sure he could not swim around. Their sharp bodies flashed en masse. The cloud advanced toward him nimbly, possessed of the collective will and coordinated movement of small fishes.

"Ah, Rolf? What am I supposed to do about this?" asked Teddy.

"Whatever you do, don't shoot a stinging hex at them," said Rolf. "It really pisses them off."

The cloud swirled, and Teddy thought he saw blade-like tails and fins. A hundred thousand knives.

"Get out your iPod," said Lola, catching up at last. "And play the loudest song you have. The sound waves will hold them off. It messes with their eardrums."

Teddy did as she bade him. He cranked up the volume on Queen's "We Are The Champions" – how nice, in fact, to have a magically hacked iPod now – and the fish went still. The wizards swam through the cloud, kicking limp silver tails aside, acquiring a few scrapes and nicks, but emerging mostly unscathed.

"Well done, Teddy," said Luna.

"Thanks," he said.

When they reached the shore, the tunnel veered to the right and opened again on a cave of somewhat spherical shape. Moss grew on the walls. More puddles dotted the floor and, curiously, the walls and ceiling. The puddles seemed unaffected by gravity. Teddy was about to comment on this when the sudden, stomach-plummeting sensation of falling through space overtook him.

He landed hard on the floor, which minutes ago had been the ceiling, or possibly a wall – it was impossible to tell, because it all looked the same. The shouts of his companions told him they had landed, too, but as he looked around at them, he realized they had all landed on separate walls, with separate senses of gravity. Lola was looking down at him from the ceiling.

Lola swore under her breath.

"Everybody alright?" asked Teddy. "How do we get out?"

Just then, the room turned again, slamming everyone against another wall. Rolf's camera lens broke off and ricocheted sideways along a wall, and then spun off into the middle of the room, suspended mid-air. Teddy stared fixedly at it for a moment. Then the room turned again, but this time Lola, Rolf, and Luna all acted at the same time.

_"Arresto momentum!"_

_"Finite!"_

_"Levicorpus!"_

Teddy felt the last spell hit him squarely in the chest. The room spun around him, but he was now suspended mid-air, feet dangling, three feet off the ground in every direction. Luna, Rolf, and Lola floated, too. Teddy turned upside-down, or maybe it was right-side up.

"Pretty fun, actually," he said. "It's a bit like flying."

"Yes, it is ultimately a pleasing sensation," said Luna thoughtfully as she drifted through the air.

"Let's move," said Lola. "How do we figure out which way is down?"

Rolf took out his compass and it flashed green in the dim chamber. "Down is that way," he said, pointing. "I think we should try shooting ropes toward that tunnel entrance over there, and hope we get pulled along."

"I agree," said Luna. "On the count of three?"

"One," said Rolf, taking Teddy's arm.

"Two," said Luna, taking Lola's.

"Three!"

Ropes shot out from all four of their wands, and they hurtled through space as gravity flipped a fourth and final time. It made Teddy feel nauseous to be moving through it at this speed. The ropes pulled them along into another chamber, twisting and scratching at their hair and skin.

Teddy smashed into the ceiling of the new chamber and crashed to the floor. Somehow Luna landed on her feet, and Rolf landed on his side. Lola was thrown into a wall, and her canteen shattered, spilling liquid everywhere. A dark stain ran down the cave wall.

"FUCK!" Lola yelled. "Fuck fuck FUCK!"

She regained her footing and scrabbled at the wall, waving her wand wildly, but the contents had already evaporated away. She tried Apparating again, but nothing happened. She let out a wail and then crumpled to her knees.

"It's alright," said Teddy. "You can have some of mine." He strode over and offered his canteen of water to her.

"No, you don't understand. I didn't drink _enough_ of it," she said.

"I know, so have mine," Teddy said, proffering his canteen again. She didn't even look at it.

"You know what this means," Lola said, looking up at Rolf, her posture that of the condemned before the guillotine. "If we don't make it out of here."

"It's not going to come to that," said Rolf.

"Fine, I'll do it myself if you won't," she said, drawing her wand and spinning it toward herself.

Luna knelt before Lola and laid her hand on top of the girl's. Not with vehemence, but with her typical calm. "Lola," Luna said, "there are still several hours before nightfall."

" _Please_ ," Lola said, gripping Luna's hand, plainly hoping Luna would capitulate if Rolf would not. "You know, don't you? Please, you have to _do_ something. I didn't drink enough of it. I have more, in the tent, but if we can't Apparate – and it's my fault, I dropped it! _Please._ I can't. I can't do this to you."

Lola buried her face in Luna's shoulder and shook. Somehow, she seemed much smaller when she wasn't swearing and rolling her eyes. Small, and vulnerable, and animal.

And then Teddy understood. Lola's fatigue, the way she had kept drinking from that canteen all day, the wolfsbane on the shopping list back in New York.

"You're a werewolf," he said.

Lola looked up at him, and her eyes were full of unshed tears, glittering in the semi-darkness. Was it his imagination, or had her irises already begun to turn yellow?

"No shit, Sherlock," she said, her voice breaking. "And guess what fucking day it is."


	8. The Lair, Part Two

Teddy imagined the moon turning around the earth, spilling its silver light across other continents. Outside this cave, it was late afternoon, and soon, night would fall, bringing with it the full moon and all that Lola feared.

"Just get me the hell out of here," said Lola, getting to her feet and wiping mud off her knees. "And if you can't, one of you better stun me, or I will do it myself. Or worse, if I have to. I am not kidding around here. You do _not_ want to be trapped in here with me tonight."

She walked ahead of them, kicking rocks with her boots and grunting through her locked teeth.

"Ugh, I am so over this _Twilight_ shit!" she said, with a half-scream on the last word that echoed off the walls.

Teddy watched her skulk away, her dark hair still dripping lake water down her shoulders. He had never met a true werewolf before; Bill Weasley did not count, because he was harmless unless you happened to be a plate of beef carpaccio. Teddy wondered if this was why Lola had been so guarded and irritable for the last few days. He had a sense, however, that much of it actually _was_ her personality, waxing moon or no.

"You knew," Teddy said to Rolf. "You knew about her."

"I did," said Rolf.

"And you took her on anyway."

"Of course I did. She's a very gifted witch."

"Good of you," said Teddy. "It's hard for her, isn't it? People are still prejudiced against werewolves. Not as much as they were, but enough to be getting on with. Is it the same here as in Britain?"

"More or less," said Rolf.

"But you didn't take her on out of pity," said Teddy.

"No, I didn't. She was valedictorian at Salem, and she has much more common sense about the business side of things than I do. Seriously. The receipts alone make me break out in hives."

Teddy nodded. "And you knew, too," he said to Luna.

"She did show signs," Luna said. "But no-one told me, Teddy. Is that why your eyebrows have gone all downhill like that? Because no-one told you?"

"No. It's because the first thing she did was point a wand at herself and tell us all to _stun_ her. I can't stand that we live in a world where she thinks we would think that's okay. It's totally repellent."

"Hmm. If we did stun her, though," said Luna, "it would wear off. Within minutes, if she's strong enough to break through. So it isn't a very sound solution. I suppose you could stun her over and over, but you would do some lasting damage. That happened to Michael Corner in our DA lessons with Harry. Michael's elbow always bent rather oddly afterward. And he was only stunned eight times in a row, not hundreds."

Teddy frowned more deeply as he felt the full weight of the situation. They were trapped underground with an under-dosed werewolf hours away from transformation, all because a jackalope had made off with a magic phone.

"Well, this has gone fucking pear-shaped," Teddy said.

"Don't worry too much, Ted," said Rolf, chuckling at Teddy's having adopted Lola's favorite word. "It's kind of a hippogriff sandwich right now, but that's par for the course when you study magical beasts. Actually, it's better than par. A lot of the work is sitting and waiting. At least we're on our feet."

...

Teddy rubbed his temples and made a serious expression that reminded Luna forcibly of Professor Lupin.

"I'm going to go find her," Teddy said. "There's probably more mental stuff up there."

With that, he jogged down the tunnel, wet trainers thudding and squishing on the stone.

"He's a good kid," said Rolf. "I'd want a kid like that. A little moody, but political. I dig it."

"Yes, I'd like one at some point," said Luna.

"Would you?"

"Or two. It must be nice to grow up with a sibling. Ginny had six brothers, and she is usually happy."

Clicks and squeaks indicated that a quantity of small creatures lay ahead. Luna was already fairly certain they were bats of some kind. And bats were an excellent sign, because bats always knew the way out.

"I'm not fussed about it at the moment, though," said Luna. "I do miss Daddy very much, and I do sometimes feel something fluttery around friends' children, right here – " she indicated a place below her collarbone, above her heart – "but I'm alright on my own. Oh, did I tell you my friends Neville and Hannah are having a baby? I'm so pleased for them. I think they may have struggled with that. Not for lack of effort, of course. He does have a lot of stamina."

Rolf grinned. She liked the way he grinned; it crinkled the corners of his eyes and mouth in a compelling way. She also liked the bits of auburn in his stubble, and the liquid, un-halting way he gestured with his hands.

"You just don't _do_ jealousy, do you?" he asked, smiling still.

"Not really," said Luna. "I've been told I'm rather bad at boundaries as well. I often say things that make people blush."

A bat flew across her line of vision, chirping softly.

"Oh, they're riddle bats," said Rolf. "They like it when you tell riddles. They don't do a whole lot else, though. I spent a summer living with them in Mexico."

"Yes, I remember from your letters," said Luna. "I liked some of your riddles very much."

"Wanna try some? We have a captive audience," he said, waving his hand at the whiffling colony of bats on the ceiling.

"Oh, yes, I'd like to. Do you think they know the one about the bowler hat and the looking glass?"

…

Teddy caught up to Lola as he exited the chamber of bats.

"Here, drink water," Teddy said, jogging up behind her and offering his canteen. "They say it's worse if you're dehydrated."

She huffed as she accepted his offering. "And since when are you some world expert on werewolves?"

"My Dad was one."

She stopped mid-sip. "Oh," she said.

"I've never met one," he said. "He died when I was a baby." He met her eyes, hoping to communicate that it was not out of pity or perverse fascination that he had followed her.

Her brows knit together. "What about your Mom?"

"What about her?"

"Did she get bitten?"

"No. I don't think so. She died the same night as him."

Her eyes softened and her lip wobbled. "Jesus, Teddy, I'm sorry."

"It's alright. There was a war. They were both fighting. I'm not the only person who lost family. Look out, there's another low-flying one."

Lola ducked as the stray bat flew over her, toward its colony. "But you're not like me, are you?" she asked.

"I'm a human being, if that's what you mean," he said, looking ahead for more bats.

"You know it's not what I mean, Teddy."

"Yes. And I also know that you have some kind of complex about it."

"Shouldn't I?" she asked softly.

"No."

"You do realize I could kill all of you?"

"Yeah. I mean, in theory. But we'll think of something," he said, hoping that saying it aloud would make it so.

She stopped and stared at him, trembling. At that moment, she looked like a little girl, full of sadness and fear that were too big for her. She looked like Lily, stuck in the apple tree at Teddy's birthday party, believing herself alone and beyond help. Teddy wanted to do for her what he had done for Lily, which was to pick her up under her shoulders and tell her bad jokes until she calmed down.

"Because a dugbog took it," came Luna's echoing voice from the chamber behind them.

Rolf laughed wickedly – his usual yipping laugh – and Luna giggled. The bats tittered strangely; were they laughing, too?

"That's my favorite riddle," said Luna, emerging from the bats' cave.

"Oh, they _are_ riddle bats," said Lola, with a look of detached comprehension. "I was wondering."

"So we must be near the exit, right? If there are bats," said Teddy. "Because they have to go out at night to hunt."

"Yeah," said Lola. "Probably." She looked tired. Teddy wondered if she could already feel the moon spinning inexorably toward this hemisphere.

The four wizards had to crawl on hands and knees to enter the next cave. Teddy emerged last, and the sight that greeted him was both heartening and disappointing.

The jackalope perched on a throne-like rock, scratching itself behind the antlers with its long, rabbity toes. Behind it, the cave forked off into two directions – one sparkling with daylight and the promise of return to the camp, and the other sloping further still into the earth. As Teddy watched, the jackalope stood up, tense, waiting to see how its pursuers reacted to this challenge. The jackalope swished its long, pheasant-like tail and sniggered.

"We don't have a choice," said Teddy, partly to the jackalope and partly to everyone else. "We have to take the one that leads out of here."

At that, the jackalope jumped down from the rock and scampered down the dark tunnel, out of sight. It cackled again, satisfied with its own cleverness and mischief.

Lola jogged, clutching her chest and panting, into the tunnel of daylight. She half-sobbed from relief as pink afternoon light fell upon her. Then she Apparated with a soft, echoing pop.

"We're not turning back, are we?" asked Teddy. "We're not going to keep going after it?"

"No, I think that's enough for today," said Luna. "And we did get a very good look it, you know. I may be able to draw it from memory."

"I agree. I'd call this a smashing success, actually," said Rolf.

"Right," said Teddy, walking into the light-filled tunnel. He thought fleetingly of Victoire, who must have spent the whole day lying around on a beach in Nice, the Mediterranean wind stirring her wavy blonde hair.

This trip, which Teddy had thought would be something like a vacation from his own life, was turning out to be nothing of the sort. He was still Teddy Lupin, no matter where he went.


	9. Howl

Teddy ate supper with Luna and Rolf, who looked about five minutes away from snogging each others' faces off, so afterward Teddy walked over to Lola's tent, his exploding snap cards in his pocket. She had not dined with them. He had not seen her since she had Apparated.

"Wotcher, Lola. It's me," he said.

She pinned back the tent flap with her hand and looked up at him with tired eyes. Bruise-colored shadows had formed under them.

"What happened to your hand?" she asked.

"Splinched myself," he said. "Just a fingernail. It'll grow back."

"You should get out of here," she said.

"Thought you might like company."

She sighed. Night insects trilled.

"You're not going to bite me," he said. "What's the problem?"

She stiffened and clenched her fists. "It's still fucking grotesque," she said.

He almost laughed. "Do you think I care about that?"

"I don't know. I don't really know you."

"Well, I _don't_ care. Trust me. I'm top of the list of people who don't care. Come on, I'll sit with you. My Dad used to say it was better when he wasn't alone. I've read his letters."

Her expression contorted into something like the one worn by a particular gargoyle on the astronomy tower at Hogwarts – fearful, ferocious, and mournful all at once. At last, she consented with a miniscule jerk of her head. "Fine. Just avert your eyes when it happens. Deal?"

"Alright. Deal."

He followed her into the tent and pushed a lumpy armchair up to the Formica kitchen table. She sat, and he dealt the cards, which smelt, as always, of gunpowder.

They played two games in silence before she spoke.

Lola leaned her head on one elbow and picked non-existent lint from the sleeve of her plaid shirt. "You want to know? How I was bitten?"

He shrugged. "It's bad manners to ask."

She rolled her eyes. "You're _so_ English, seriously. _Bad manners._ Jesus."

The last greenish gasp of daylight faded on the canvas walls of the tent. He thought her nails might be lengthening into claws, but he didn't stare.

"It was an accident," she said, laying another card on the pile before her. "He didn't mean to, and it was partly my fault."

Teddy waited several seconds before speaking. Then he asked, "Who?"

"Robert. My boyfriend," she said. "We were a week from graduation, and I don't know if he got the potion wrong, or the timing wrong, but I went to check on him, and he... But like I said, it's partly my fault. He was making these weird whining noises behind the door. More feral than usual. I should never have unlocked that door. But I did, like an _idiot_ , and the next thing either of us remembers is waking up in a pool of blood, and an emergency healer slathering silver and dittany all down the left side of my body. So Robbie ran for the hills. Nobody's seen him since. My guess is he's hiding out in a shack somewhere, making himself crazy with guilt. He's actually a really sweet person. He would never hurt anyone, normally."

Teddy blinked as the deck in front of them exploded, spitting ash onto their faces.

"Right, then. I'm putting on my sappy-ass music," he said, "and there's nothing you can do about it."

He scrolled through his iPod and played a somber, unsexy tune. Lola won the match without comment, and Teddy dealt the cards again.

"So what's your deal, Teddy?" she asked. "You've got lady trouble written all over you."

He fanned out his hand of cards, obscuring his face from her. It was an unlucky hand; he was sure he would lose again. "Yeah. There's a girl," he said.

"Cough it up, limey. I just told you my sob story," she said.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Alright. There's a girl. I'm sort of a friend of her family, though, so if I ask her to go out with me and she says no, then I'll still have to see her every day for the rest of our lives."

Lola brushed her dark hair out of her eyes. "Is she hot?"

"Loads."

"Is she a good person?"

"Yeah."

"So ask her out, ding-dong. Don't be a chickenshit."

Teddy almost laughed. What came out was an awkward snort. "S'not that simple," he said.

"Please, you're totally overcomplicating it with your adolescent angst. What you have, friend-o, is classic fear of rejection. Don't feed that fear. Starve it. Tell it to fuck off. Besides, I bet she already knows you like her. You don't hide it that well, I'm just saying. Try _honesty_. Even if she doesn't go out with you, she will probably respect that you were honest. Either way, you get on with your lives. By the way, if she says no, don't stalk her. That won't earn you any points."

Teddy considered her advice. It had the ring of truth and good intent, couched in teasing though it was.

"Okay, I have to lie down now," she said, her face taking on a greenish, sickly cast. "Excuse me."

She flopped down on the lumpy floral sofa, supine, and stared at the canvas ceiling. She shook, but remained calm.

"You know what I want more than anything in the hours leading up to it?" she asked. " _Chocolate._ I have daydreams about it. I would kill for a Snickers bar. Except I might _actually_ kill someone, because sugar invalidates the wolfsbane potion." She clutched her stomach. "Oh. Okay. You really have to look away now."

He put his back to her and scrolled through his iPod again.

He heard movement, and a muffled whimper. She must have covered her mouth with a pillow so he wouldn't hear. He wondered whether his mother had ever stayed with his father like this, and what they would have said to each other. He wondered if his father had ever stifled his screams into the furniture. Or worse.

After several long minutes, she quieted, and Teddy's skin prickled with the eerie sensation that a predator watched him at close range. He turned.

Her markings were gray and white. She stood on the couch, followed her tufted tail three times, and sat down, just like a dog. She was unmistakably a wolf, however – larger and more powerfully built than a dog, and he caught a flash of some serious teeth – but there was something altogether different about the great yellow eyes. The intelligence behind them. And the sardonic Lola-ness of them.

"Want anything?" he asked. "Wag your tail once for yes, twice for no."

The wolf glared at him and blinked pointedly.

"You're still _you_ , Lola. You always look like you're about to bite my head off. Now you really could, if you wanted to."

She twitched her nose. Whether this was disapproval or a smirk, he could not say.

"God, I love this song," he said, closing his eyes as the music reached the chorus. Fiona Apple covering 'Across the Universe,' _nothing's gonna change my world, nothing's gonna change my world_. "My parents were penniless newlyweds, you know, and there was a war on, so they couldn't leave me much. But I do have all of their records. Boxes full. I used to listen to them and pretend they were just in the other room. Dancing, maybe, or making tea. I think they really loved music. Her especially. She had every single Weird Sisters LP."

A cold nose snuffled into his palm. He opened his eyes. Lola's large, pointed ears were trained on him. He scratched behind them, just to see if she would allow it, and was amused that she did.

"It's awful, what happened to you, Lola," he said. "I'm really sorry. Come on, let's go outside. Bet you can smell that jackalope from here. That alright? You seem safe enough to me."

She padded toward the entrance, her claws tick-ticking on the smooth, hard floor.

"Alright," he said, opening the flaps.

The evening air felt surprisingly cool. With no moisture in the air and no trees to trap it, the heat had evaporated. Maybe he would use that jumper his Gran had told him to pack after all.

Lola tensed. Something moved in the dark, scrubby bushes beyond the reach of the camp's light. Teddy thought he saw antlers, and the swoosh of a long, feathery tail.

"Oy!" he said.

Lola was already in pursuit, tearing after the jackalope. Teddy ran behind her, his jeans picking up burrs and cactus needles as he went. He might have been bleeding; he didn't care.

"Give her back her phone, you little arse!" he yelled.

"Arse! Arse!" yelled the jackalope, delighted to have learned a new swear word.

Lola bayed at the jackalope. Human in spirit she might be, but this was a primal sound, and Teddy could not help but be moved by it. He felt the deep, canine rumble vibrating across all of his cells, and gooseflesh rose on his arms and legs. The feathered tail disappeared over a ridge, but Teddy kept running, overtaking Lola.

They ran for what felt like half an hour, through dark desert and cactus painted in moonlight. Then they reached a field of corn, high and wide. The dry, late-summer stalks rustled in the night wind. Lola seemed to have lost the scent. Teddy wondered if the beast could Apparate.

A jittering green light in the dust caught Teddy's eye. It was Lola's phone. He picked it up. The jackalope had taken a blurry self-portrait, rabbity nose filling most of the frame.

"That little bleeder," said Teddy, panting and chuckling despite himself. "He's having a laugh."

The lights of the San Francisco peaks glittered in the distance. Two planes passed by one another in opposite directions – one traveling east, one west.

Opening his arms wide in mingled mirth and frustration, and seized with a mad impulse, Teddy threw back his head and howled at the moon. A long howl, draining all of his breath. He howled for this ridiculous quest, and for Victoire, and for his parents.

Somewhere far beyond the field, a coyote answered. After a pause, Lola sat on her hind legs and howled, too.

Teddy laughed and howled again, louder. He howled for everything broken beyond repair in his life, and Lola's, and everybody's. He howled for how close he had come to death only hours before. However, for some reason, he could not remember ever feeling so _alive_ in his entire life.


	10. Passing and Passage

_-From the papers of Luna Lovegood-_

_Dear Ms. Lovegood,_

_What a wonderful letter! You are quite right, the blibbering humdinger does indeed have seventeen eyestalks, not sixteen. I have contacted my editor, who will print a correction in next month's edition of_ International Magical Zoology _._

_It is not often that I receive correspondence of such intellectual rigor and admirable curiosity. I wish you the best in your studies at Hogwarts this year. I envy you that experience; what a formidable magical institution! Such interesting staff and fascinating local legends! Plus, I have to say, you really can't get decent pumpkin pasties in the remote corners of the South Pacific, where I am now searching for the flying water snakes that are said to make their home in these blue atolls._

_It's wonderful to hear from someone who shares my yen for fantastic beasts. It is a fascinating subject._

_It was so nice to meet you, even if only in epistolary form._

_Sincerely,_

_Rolf Scamander_

...

Luna sat at the card table, bent over her watercolors, surrounded by half-finished plates and un-drunk wine. She had been seized with inspiration toward the end of dinner, and neither she nor Rolf had bothered clearing up. A fine veneer of red desert sand coated her bare white feet.

The paper drank the Prussian-blue-tinted water, and after a minute's careful painting, the silhouette of the jackalope emerged from indigo darkness. Rolf had not realized before how much skill Luna had in this department, nor would he have guessed how hypnotized he would feel while watching her. He relied on photography, mostly, to capture the magical fauna he studied, but Luna drew and painted. She had a steady hand and an eye for anatomical detail. Though the image was not truly magical in the strictest sense, the beast did seem almost to move – dreamily – through the painted air.

Somewhere far off – miles away, maybe – wolves and coyotes howled.

Luna smiled languidly. "That one is Edward," she said.

Rolf waved his wand at the dirty dishes, sending them toward a washtub by the stove. "How can you tell?" he asked.

"Oh, I've known him since he was very small," she said.

Rolf leaned back in the folding chair and swirled his wine in its glass. He continued watching her paint, transfixed. He was not sure how much time passed – maybe an hour, maybe two.

"Part of me feels like I've known you for nineteen years, and part of me feels like I've known you for three days," he said.

"Both are true," said Luna, now filling in the eyes of the jackalope with a fine-pointed brush. The beast looked both fierce and ridiculous, as it had done in life. "Although I did picture you shorter than you are. You seemed shorter in writing."

He chuckled. "Well, you are almost exactly how I pictured. English rose. Astute. Fast as hell when we were running through that tunnel, but I would expect no less from someone who learned defense from Harry Potter personally. However, I will say that you have better legs in person than you did in my imagination."

Without looking up, she said, "Yes, I think there is a rather erotic dimension to this, as well. I'm so pleased. I have always liked you very much, but this is a nice addition."

He swirled the wine again and bit his lip. "Luna. About that. Before you decide anything, you should know that I'm kind of a trainwreck. Seriously. My eccentricities are manifold, and they cease to be amusing after about three months. Also, I travel constantly. And I'm a third-generation New Yorker, for heaven's sake. Basically, I drive women crazy, and not in the fun way."

At this, she did look up. "You are being very uncharitable about yourself," she said.

"Well, I deserve it. And so do you. You deserve to know who you're dealing with."

She blinked a few times, her eyelashes moving lazily, like moth wings. "I also travel constantly," she said.

"But that's just it. It took us two decades to meet. And this is great fun, but what are the odds that it will happen again?"

"I don't see why it can't happen again," she said, calm and measured. "Do you not want it to?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Of course I do. I love seeing you. I love working with you."

"Then you are being illogical," she said. "Although you are doing it out of kindness, which is very nice."

At this, he laughed outright into his wine.

She stood up and tucked her paintbrush behind her ear. "I would like to continue this conversation. But I have promised to keep an eye on Edward, and it is nearly midnight. I don't think it will take long."

"I'll wait," he said.

With that, she disappeared through the flaps of the tent, and they closed behind her with a sound like rustling palm fronds.

...

The boy and the wolf snored softly in the dark tent. An abandoned game of exploding snap lay smoking on the table.

Lola slept in an armchair, tufted tail curled around her, and paws twitching with dreams. Teddy slept prone on the sofa, his hair slowly cycling through different colors – blue, then bubblegum pink, then brown shot through with silver.

No, the dead you loved never really left you, Luna thought. Two of them were very much in evidence tonight.

"They've made friends," said Rolf as Luna emerged from the tent.

He was sitting cross-legged on his sleeping bag, which he had unrolled on the ground, per his custom. She joined him on it, taking in the heavens as she did so – the stars shining clearer here away from the lights of cities and castles, and the bright streaks of meteors scudding across the atmosphere.

"Yes, they have," she said.

"I don't think it's romance, though," he said.

"No, it isn't. But friends are lovely."

Leaning closer to Rolf, she cupped her palm around his chin and stroked his stubbly cheek with her thumb. His eyes were green, a little like Harry's, but a wilder, more acid green. You could look into Harry's eyes and see Scottish hillsides and quiet gardens and compassion. You could look into Rolf's and see tropical seas at red tide, rainforests teeming with barking animals, and boundless curiosity.

"I like you very much," she said.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Then she kissed him for a long time – not because she feared ending the kiss, but because she liked the warm yielding and advancing of lips and breath and saw no reason to stop yet. He pulled her into his lap and twined his fingers in her hair.

When they finally broke apart, he said, "Okay. That was either long overdue or totally surprising. I am still confused which. But I think you were right before. It's both. I know everything about you, and I just met you. That sounds like a lyric from a silly pop song, doesn't it? But it's completely true."

"True things usually sound silly, out of context," said Luna.

He smiled at her and shook his head, as if dislodging a sticky and unwanted thought, or maybe a particularly clingy wrackspurt. "You aren't going to listen to any of my reasons why this is a terrible idea, are you?"

"I will if you prefer," she said. "But you are an excellent kisser, so I would rather do more of that, if you'd like to. I think this sleeping bag is large enough for two people. What do you think?"

"It might be," he said, grinning and unzipping the sleeping bag. "And if it isn't, it's nothing an engorgement charm can't fix."

...

Hours later, they still lay under the stars, his head on her stomach, listening to the odd purrs and squeaks of her body's inner workings. He wanted to know everything about her that he did not already know. She was a fantastic creature worthy of a lifetime's study.


	11. A Fearsome Critter

Lola slept for the next two days, though she woke once to eat three bowls of Cheerios and then crawled back into bed. She drowned her cereal in soy milk – Robert's pseudo-veganism, like his lycanthropy, had stuck with her. The irony was not lost on her: that the werewolf who had bitten her was not only her own boyfriend but was also so morally upstanding that he refused to eat dairy. She wondered how he was, wherever he was. In the wilderness? In a strange city, alone? She missed his low, deliberate laugh and bad puns.

She wondered if he was out there somewhere, riding a horse and smoking a cigarette, like werewolf John Wayne. The last time they had spoken - really spoken, not the horrifying conversation they had had when he abandoned her, trembling like Romeo in the Capulet tomb - he had been reading _Metamorphosis._ "Preparing for my Kafka-esque moments, Lo," he'd said.

Teddy visited at dusk and brought her a few squares of chocolate from his own stash.

"Better late than never," she thought he said, although she wasn't totally sure, groggy as she was.

He was such a sweet kid. A weird, beautiful, sweet kid, with his floppy blue hair and tragic backstory. Like some character from a book – a little English orphan boy on an adventure with magic and danger and slightly unreliable adults. Lemony Snicket, or something. She wasn't sure. Lola never went in much for fiction, preferring as she did to dwell within realms material and verifiable. Plus, they didn't teach English lit at magic school.

On the third day, she sat at the kitchen table and made a spreadsheet with all of Rolf's receipts, book royalties, and publisher's advances. This kind of semi-mindless math always made her feel better.

On the fourth day, she accompanied Rolf, Luna, and Teddy to a mountain hamlet which boasted many reports of encounters with jackalopes. The wizards stood on a mountainside with their binoculars and spectre specs and Rolf's various magical instruments, scanning the landscape. While Lola had slept, the other three had traversed the desert and had acquired tans and freckles from the brilliant summer sun. All three of them looked happier. Rolf and Luna because they were clearly having lots of sex (to be fair, they were discreet, just afterglow-y), and Teddy for some unknown reason. Maybe he hadn't been getting enough vitamin D before.

The day's heat baked the earth and trees until they imbued the air with the sharp scents of pine and iron.

"I've been thinking," said Teddy, fiddling with a fine silver instrument that emitted soft ticking noises.

"About what?" asked Lola, binoculars trained on a mountain peak three miles off.

A red-tailed hawk soared overhead.

"Tactics," he said. "We've tried going after it directly. We haven't had any luck. I think we should try bringing it to us. We went back to the cave while you were asleep, by the way, but the entrance isn't there anymore. Vanished, or disillusioned, Luna says."

"Yeah, that's kind of a pattern with fantastic beasts," said Lola, dropping her binoculars to her side. "They don't always like people knowing where to find them. Hell, _I'm_ a fantastic beast and I don't give my cell number to anybody."

"Oh, stop it, you are _not_ a fantastic beast," said Teddy, rolling his eyes.

"Yes I am. Werewolves are in the book. _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. Look it up. In some countries, I'm not even considered human."

He stared at her for a long minute, as if taking her in completely for the first time ever – her studded boots and dark hair, her chapped lips and ironic t-shirt. Finally, he arched one eyebrow and said, "That's fucking stupid."

She laughed. It wasn't even that funny. But once she had opened herself to it, she couldn't stop. She laughed so hard and for so long that she clutched her stomach and bent double and stuffed her whole fist in her mouth. She laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. Teddy crouched down next to her, shaking with laughter, too. His face reflected back what she was thinking: that it wasn't amusing at all, that this was just a skinny teenage boy swearing pointlessly at institutionalized prejudice, but somehow it _was_ hysterically funny.

Then – she wasn't quite sure who started it – he squeezed her hand in his, and she squeezed back, and she wept and giggled again, and some of the agony that had boiled inside her for months and months evaporated into the dry mountain air. Her losses – of her lover, her liberty, her life as she had planned it – felt less.

"God damn it, Teddy," she said, smearing her tears on the back of her hand. "That is the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a whole year."

…

Change tactics they did. That night, Lola poured a saucer of firewhiskey and set it at the edge of the camp. As dusk fell, soft and greenish, around them, Rolf lit a campfire and Luna picked around in the vegetation for a specific desert plant, her lit wand aloft. Teddy entertained Rolf and Lola by changing his nose at will.

Rolf caught Lola up on the uneventful three days that had passed during her convalescence, and she caught him up on the state of his finances.

"I wish you would stay," said Rolf. "After the summer is over. You could write your own job title. Director or Vice President, or whatever. Seriously. You're too good to be an intern."

"Thanks," she said, and she meant it. "I'll think about it."

"Please do. Please don't go back to Los Angeles and work for some ungrateful jerk. Stay in New York. Date nice Jewish wizards and see bad performance art on your days off. I'll pay you double."

"Yeah, okay," she said, sniggering. "You're in a good mood."

"I totally am," he said, glancing at Luna, who stood among alien-looking desert plants, pinning up her hair and arching her back. Luna looked happier, too, in her ethereal wood nymph way.

Above them, stars popped into view like carbonated bubbles on the surface of an effervescent sky.

With a swift jerk, Teddy held up a hand and motioned for the other three to approach. As Lola followed his line of sight, she saw the jackalope moving in the dark, lapping firewhiskey from the saucer. The jackalope stood up on its hind legs, considered the wizards, and then hopped toward them.

Rolf put another log on the fire and they all sat down in a circle, including the jackalope, as if they had planned this meeting weeks ago and had only just remembered it.

"Over there. He went that'a way," said the jackalope, calmly sipping its drink.

Lola took in the creature they had pursued for so long and with so much passion. It was small – maybe two and a half feet tall when standing on its hind legs. Doe-like eyes. Lopsided whiskers.

"Wotcher, rabbit," said Teddy.

"Wotcher," repeated the jackalope. Apparently it could not compose full sentences of its own, but could only repeat whatever phrases it had heard people say.

"Nice night to be out here," said Teddy. "Cozy campfire and all."

"O, for a muse of fire," agreed the jackalope. "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone. Only darkness every day."

"Sounds like he's seen some high school Shakespeare," laughed Rolf. "And heard some Top 40 radio. How interesting."

Rolf summoned his camera and snapped a few shots of the curious animal. The jackalope twitched its ears at the click of the shutter.

"I've been looking so long at these pictures of you that I almost believe that they're real," said the jackalope.

"Fuck, that's kind of deep," said Lola.

"It's from a The Cure song," said Teddy.

"I know," she said.

The jackalope turned to Teddy. "You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometime, you might find, you get what you need, uh huh."

Teddy snorted. "Thanks. I'll try to remember that."

Lola met Teddy's eyes over the campfire. Either this was utter madness, or the jackalope was dispensing philosophy. Her lips wobbled with a suppressed smirk.

"I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand," sang the jackalope to Lola.

"Yes, and I saw a jackalope who stole my phone," said Lola. "Nice selfie, by the way."

Teddy was now snickering so hard that he looked like he was having a fit. The jackalope swished its tail and looked around.

"Oh, he needs a refill," said Lola, biting back a snort. "Rolf, hand me that firewhiskey."

Lola poured the jackalope another drink, and it tilted its antlered head thoughtfully at her.

"Over there. He went that'a way," said the jackalope again. The beast next turned to Luna. "Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls; for, thus friends absent speak," it said.

"I agree," said Luna placidly, as if being addressed by a poetry-declaiming jackalope was an everyday occurrence for her. She took out her watercolors and began to paint again.

The jackalope settled itself on Rolf's sleeping bag and sighed. Then, haltingly, in its strange collage of songs and quotations, the jackalope told them the story of its life, its family, and its joys. The wizards listened – rapt, amused, and amazed.


	12. Harry Potter and the Pursuers of Beasts

Harry spent the morning in a boring meeting with the American liaison to the British Auror office. At eleven o'clock, he visited Percy in the latter's office in the same building. Percy had pinned up vacation photos of his two children over the desk, and he kept a meticulously trimmed bonsai tree in a silver bowl. Percy asked after Ginny and his brothers, whom he saw less of these days now that they lived an ocean away from him and all but Charlie were busy with young children. Harry caught him up on the small dramas and comic anecdotes of recent family life – Bill and his family had spent the summer in France, and Fleur had made a play to transfer the kids to Beauxbatons. Ron's two had taken up wizard chess with such passion that they now played during meals and in the bath. George was talking about expanding the Wizard Wheezes into the Asian market. The sun never set on the Weasley empire.

At eleven thirty, Luna's Patronus appeared on the grey office carpet. It asked if Harry would like to meet her in Central Park, as they were due to arrive at any minute, having successfully found and interviewed a jackalope, and would Harry like to travel with them back to London this evening. Harry sent a reply in the affirmative and bade goodbye to Percy, who was looking eagerly at a foot-high stack of tedious-looking interdepartmental memos that had just arrived. He had mellowed a bit, but he was still Percy.

Harry waited on a park bench under a bowed and ancient oak tree, the light dappling onto him through green leaves. The sounds of cabs and joggers and children playing by a water fountain filled his ears. No one recognized him, or if they did, they did not approach. That was a nice thing about New York – people ignored fame here. Here, on this park bench, for five whole minutes, Harry was deliciously anonymous. For someone who had had enough of the public eye for a lifetime, this was quiet bliss.

And then he saw them: Luna, dreamy and unhurried as ever; Rolf Scamander, whom Harry had met once at an otherwise forgettable Ministry function; Teddy, looking distinctly tan and happy; and a young woman with a curtain of long, dark hair which, at a distance, reminded Harry fleetingly of Cho Chang.

Teddy waved and grinned at Harry. As they came closer, Harry observed that the heart-achy look Teddy had worn for the last year had changed; it was still there around the edges, but was now overwritten with good humor. Here at last you could see that this was the son of Nymphadora Tonks, queen of amusing party tricks, and Remus Lupin, Marauder and inveterate joker.

 _Well done, Luna,_ Harry thought.

"Hi! We stopped in Jersey for donuts," said Teddy, proffering a box of glossy cream-filled ones at Harry. "They're sticky and horrible for you. Want one?"

Harry took one, very aware that he was making a face of arch, godfatherly amusement. "Should you be eating this much before Apparating three thousand miles?" he asked.

"Worried I'll vomit on you?"

"Frankly, yes."

"Lily and James vomit on you all the time," said Teddy, grinning, his mouth now full of raspberry jam donut.

"Hi," said the young woman, extending her hand. "Nice to meet you, Harry."

"Sorry, sorry, I'm the worst at introductions," said Rolf. "Harry, Dolores, Dolores, Harry."

"Rolf, don't call me Dolores," said the girl.

"Hi, Harry," said Luna.

"Hi," said Harry, folding his arms around her in a friendly hug. "Whatever you did, well done," he whispered into her ear.

"Oh, it wasn't that much," she said softly. "But I do like playing godmother sometimes."

Teddy set down his rucksack and hugged Lola. "Bye, Lo," he said.

"Bye, Teds. Text me. Or owl me, or whatever. Let me know how your lady problem goes."

"I will," said Teddy. "Ring me up next time you're in London."

Rolf put his hands on Luna's shoulders and kissed her passionately. "I'll meet you in Marrakech in three days," he said, practically trembling with earnestness. "Don't forget about me."

"Oh, I don't think that's very likely, Rolf," said Luna. "But if I did, I would be able to meet you all over again, and that would be interesting."

Harry stifled a snort as Rolf said, "That's true. How fun would that be!"

"Come on," said Lola, tapping Rolf on the shoulder. "We need to settle up with the birdsitter. And you have an interview at four."

"She's my boss," Rolf explained to Harry. Lola rolled her eyes, but smirked happily. "Nice to see you, Harry. I'm sure we'll meet again soon," said Rolf.

"Yes, likewise," said Harry, looking from Rolf to Luna. Harry had a feeling he would indeed be seeing a lot more of Rolf Scamander going forward.

After a few more hugs and whispered goodbyes to their erstwhile traveling companions, Rolf and Lola walked into an oncoming herd of grey-suited stockbrokers and disappeared.

"Summer romance?" asked Harry, chewing thoughtfully on a Bavarian creme.

"Nah, she's just my friend," said Teddy.

With that, Harry, Luna, and Teddy made their way to the portkey room in Union Square and journeyed back up the coast of Canada and across the sea. It was past six o'clock when they arrived in Ireland. The sun had already begun to set over the cliffs and grass and rolling waves. None of their party vomited.

"Ron's meeting me in the Leaky Cauldron. Want to join us for a drink?" asked Harry.

Teddy and Luna agreed, and, inhaling a last sniff of sea air, they took the final portkey – a truly ugly ceramic kitten that might have come from Umbridge's own horrible collection. Harry was quite happy to leave the hateful thing in the fusty portkey room.

Outside, the Diagon Alley street lamps cast gold and green pools of enchanted light in the rain-slick street. The clouds had parted, and the night was unusually clear. School books were already featured prominently in the window display at Flourish and Blott's, and a new crop of skiving snackboxes was stacked in the window of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

At the tavern, Harry opened the door for his two companions, and they stowed their unneeded umbrellas in a stand by the door. Hannah looked up from the bar and waved at them. She looked happy about something. Harry and Teddy took a round of butterbeers from her and settled in a booth. Luna hung back and spoke quietly to Hannah, both women beaming.

"Tell me about your adventure," said Harry. "Tell me about the jackalope."

"Well, we ran around shouting at it for a while," said Teddy, "but in the end, we just got it really pissed."

Luna joined them in the booth, the corners of her mouth still curled in a smile.

Harry looked up as the door opened again, revealing a group of three fifth-year girls, one of whom had pinned her new prefect's badge onto her summer dress. She tossed her wavy blonde hair and adjusted the parcels of school supplies under her arm. She had acquired a few new freckles in France. Harry waited for the inevitable thud and splash of Teddy dropping his butterbeer at the sight of Victoire Weasley, but the sound never came.

Instead, Teddy quietly scooped up his drink, waited for the girls to find seats at the bar, and then got to his feet.

"Back in ten minutes," Teddy said over his shoulder as he walked, straight-backed, toward the trio of girls.

Harry smiled at Luna. Their party had dwindled to two, but he didn't mind. He rarely had the opportunity to talk to Luna alone; there were almost always children underfoot.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm well," she said. "I'm happy."

"Had a good summer, then?"

"Yes. I did," she said. "Eventful."

They both glanced at Teddy. It seemed to be going well. Victoire's two friends tittered in the usual manner of teenage girls in the presence of romantic overtures. Victoire leaned forward on her seat and smiled indulgently at her suitor.

"I'm really sorry about your Dad," said Harry, turning back to Luna. "I didn't get the chance to tell you before."

"Thanks, Harry. You are sweet. But we both know it's not really the end. I sometimes feel that when it comes to death, you and I have an unspoken understanding."

"Why's that?" asked Harry, although he thought he already knew the answer.

"Because we both accepted our mortality before we were out of our teens. It does make one stand out," she said.

Harry fiddled with his mug of butterbeer, which had sweat a ring of condensation onto the oak table. "Yeah, reckon it does a bit," he said, thinking of thestrals and hallows and horcruxes. "Is that what happened to Teddy when you were in the States? Acceptance of mortality?"

Luna tilted her head curiously, blinked her silvery eyes, and said, "Oh, no. He just learned how to talk to girls."

Grinning at Luna's serene assessment, Harry held up his butterbeer, tapped it against hers, and said, "Cheers, Luna."

"Cheers, Harry."

Mischief managed, again.

...

_FIN_


End file.
